


Fangirls Not Wanted (Or Needed)

by castironbaku



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 18:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1479163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castironbaku/pseuds/castironbaku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Antonio Fernandez. There's nobody who's anybody who doesn't know his name. He's a superstar on screen and on stage. But Lovino's not much of an avid fan. What happens when their worlds crash into each other? The beginning of something rather unexpected...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fangirls Not Wanted (Or Needed)

**AN: Hooray for one-shots! I remember watching a Disney movie with a plot kinda like this. I forgot the title though. Dang. Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it (unlikely)!**

* * *

    Antonio Fernandez.

    Ask anyone and they'll know who he is. Some sort of hotshot actor-slash-singer that nobody can get enough of. The girls at school never shut up about him these days, especially after that new movie trailer that just went viral on Youtube. Even my brother raves about him.

    Honestly? I couldn't have cared any less.

    "Loviiiii!" My brother's voice rings out from downstairs. "Breakfast is ready!"

    "Yeah, yeah..." I mutter, turning under my sheets. I pull them even closer to myself instead of getting up and out of them.

    "Loviiiii! Don't fall asleep again! Mister Beilschmidt is first period today! He'll get mad again!"

    I groan. That potato-loving freak of a science teacher for first period? Today couldn't get any worse. I throw off the sheets and pull myself up into a sitting position. Yawning, I stretch myself out. I glance at the empty tissue box on my bedside table and grimace. I get out of bed, scratching my back and make a mental note to ask Feli for some more tissue. Last night I'd snuck into the kitchen to make myself some hot chocolate, but some of it had spilled on my way upstairs. I made a pretty big mess, obviously.

    After I get mostly dressed and tame my hair, I throw the door open and stride out of my room. I'm buttoning up my polo when I enter the kitchen. Feli's laying out the food--toast, some ham, and eggs (scrambled for me and sunny side up for him).

    I sit down and mutter "good morning" before digging in. Feli smiles and says an infinitely more cheerful version of my "good morning". He sits down and starts to eat.

    "Did you know, Lovi?"

    "No I don't," I say, swallowing a mouthful of a makeshift ham, egg, and toast sandwich. "What is it?"

    Feli beams at me. "They say Antonio Fernandez is going to pass by!" he says enthusiastically.

    "Uh huh." _Great. He's_ just _what I need today._

    "He's got a premiere screening the next town over so he's going to pass by! Can you believe it?"

    I roll my eyes. "How do you know Mister Bigshot isn't going to take another route?" I say irritably. "If people like you knew he was going here, isn't it obvious that he'd go in the opposite direction?"

    Feli doesn't look disheartened in the slightest. It annoys me, but it comforts me too. If Feli were as prone to blowing a fuse as I was, this house wouldn't have lasted for so long.

    "Yeah, but it's a little exciting to know, right?" he says cheerfully. "I just finished listening to that last album he released. He's really good..." Feli gets this dreamy, faraway look and I know he's beyond redemption. Well, whatever floats his boat, I guess.

    I scrape the last of the eggs off my plate and into my mouth. I gulp down the glass of juice Feli's poured out for me. Getting up, I walk over to the sink and start washing the stuff I used.

    "Hey, Feli," I say over my shoulder. "Get me some more tissue for my room later. I'm fresh out."

    "Huh? Why? I just got you that box three days ago!" he says worriedly. "What did you do?"

    I smirk at his anxious face. "First time I jacked off in a month," I say loudly. "I made a pretty big mess, obviously."

    The look on his face is the only thing I'm going to end up laughing at today, but I don't know that. Not yet anyway.

* * *

    I don't have friends at school. You could call me a loner and, even though I'd beat you up for it, I wouldn't really take it against you because you'd be right. I don't eat lunch in the cafeteria. After I finish whatever my lunch is, I usually do my homework. Honestly, I'd really rather do it at school than at home. Home is where you have siestas and shit, not school. Best to get it over with.

    I know where all the good spots are on campus. I've marked them all down on a mental map. I skirt the school gang territories and I avoid all the gossip girl corners. My favorite place is this old wing that nobody's used in over a decade. Rumors have floated around that kids killed themselves here or some fucked up shit like that. Personally, I don't really give a flying fuck about that. In fact, I try to fan the flames on the rumors by moving things around a bit, making some noise, or writing stuff on the walls whenever some guys get the balls to step on my turf.

    Yep, this place is my heaven on earth.

    I dump my bag onto the floor of an old classroom. It used to be dusty as hell, but I cleaned up a bit. Now it's my personal getaway. I unzip my bag and pull out the sandwiches Feli made this morning. I use a thumb to lift one corner of the top slice of bread.

    _Chicken, pesto, and..._ A red curve pokes out of the chicken slices. I can't help but smile a little whenever Feli puts tomatoes into my lunch. It's something he and I used to do for each other when we were younger. Now that he's taken over all the cooking, it makes me feel a little bad, but it's really, well, sweet when I think that he still remembers those days. Not that I'd ever admit it.

    I lower the bread slice and I'm just about to bite into the sandwich when I hear a clatter from the next room.

    I curse under my breath as I jump to my feet. Somebody had gotten in without me noticing. I jam my lunch back into my bag and sling it over one shoulder. Footsteps shuffle just outside. I'm pretty sure it's just one person. My heart jumps to my throat when I think about how much I'd gotten attached to this place. If I had to give up my everyday peace to this bastard... Hell if I was gonna do that.

    A shadow appears in the frosted glass of the door window. I stiffen. From the height and build, it's obviously a guy. That makes things simpler. My hands clench into fists. I had to shut him up before he could run. Make sure he doesn't say anything about--

    With a click and creak, the door opens. I charge with a snarl and tackle the guy into the ground. He falls backward with an _oof_ and I slam his shoulder with one hand, pinning him down. I pull my other arm back into what's supposed to be a good, hard punch.

    "Wait, wait, wait a sec! Relax! I'm not a bad guy!"

    I blink once, twice, before I understand who I've barreled into.

    " _Antonio Fernandez?_ " I say, the rage and fear in my head fading into disbelief. "What the hell is someone like you doing in my school?"

    The celebrity himself cracks a half-smile. "Running away," he says sheepishly. "Look, if you'd, uh, get off me, I could explain things."

    I mutter an apology as I straighten and help him get up on his feet. I watch him dust himself off in irritated wonder. He's taller than I thought he would be. His hair isn't perfectly styled--it's just a disheveled mop of brown on his head. Well, it's not like I stare at his posters or interviews as much as Feli does. It's only natural that he doesn't look the way I think he does. Besides, lots of things aren't all they're cracked up to be. Weirdly enough, I guess I'm a little disappointed. 

   He and I settle back down into my special hideaway of an abandoned classroom. I hand him one of my sandwiches and he starts talking.

    "I decided to sneak out for a minute or two," he says with a grin like he's proud of it. "Some girls saw me and I just dashed in here without thinking."

    I gape at him. "You can't just 'dash in here'," I say. "There's a goddamn eight foot tall fence around the school!"

    "Uh, I climbed it?" He stares at me like _I'm_ the weirdo here and bites into the sandwich. "Point is, I can't leave until I'm absolutely sure they're gone. I think maybe twenty minutes is--Hey, this is amazing!" He takes another bite out of what _was_ my lunch. "I love tomatoes!" He beams at me.

    I roll my eyes. So what if he's being chased by a bunch of fangirls? So what if he's got a dazzling smile for everything? So what if he likes tomatoes? I don't care.

    I just hope he doesn't screw up the way I've been doing things around here.

* * *

    "Lovi, guess what, guess what!" Feli leans over to me with an excited grin. I turn back to my game.

    "What?"

    "Some girls at school say they've seen Antonio in town!"

    My finger slips on a controller button and my character gets bitten by a wolf. My hands have started to sweat a little. I tell myself it's because of the wolf taking a chunk out of my health meter.

    "Uh huh," I say. I hope I sound uninterested.

    "Yeah," he continues like I've prompted him to. "They said they saw him walking around town, but that he disappeared around a corner when they tried to follow him. Isn't it exciting, Lovi? Think about it, _the_ Antonio Fernandez walking around town! What if we passed by him on the way to school and never noticed? What if he was one of those people crossing the road with us yesterday? Isn't it amazing?"

    "I guess." _He eats lunch with me every day. Isn't_ that _amazing? As if._ It's been a week since the one and only Antonio Fernandez decided to drop in on my daily life. Just when I think he's leaving for good, he tells me "see you tomorrow". Every single time. It looks, sounds, and feels like one big joke. Why the fuck does he keep bothering me? He said he wanted to "know how normal people live".

    I'm not sure he even understands what "normal people" are. I'm a loner. I've always been one. That's not "normal". Feli isn't the base definition of "normal", but he's obviously more normal than I am. He's got friends and shit like that. I have my solitary lunches and early homework done in a decrepit wing of a half-rate high school.

    Lunches and homework, day in and day out. Antonio has been a part of that cycle for a week now. He brings his own lunch some days. Other days, I ask Feli for an extra sandwich. We talk. Mostly about him. He talks about random stuff like his mom or his manager or the cat he scared off on his way there. He asks about me, about what I do, why I'm always there, why I'm alone all the time. He asked me about my blood type, my zodiac, my age, my family.

    Of all the things he's never asked about, it's only my name.

    More days pass by like this. Today's a Friday. Today's a BLT sandwich and trigonometry homework.

    "Why don't you eat lunch with your brother?"

    I glance at him before returning to my math book. _Solve the following_ _\--_

   "He's got friends around," I reply flatly, scribbling a solution down.

    "Is that a reason for you not to eat with him?"

    I scoff. "I'll be damned if I have to sit with him and _them_ ," I say. "Besides, I like being on my own a lot better. No noise. No hypocritical assholes. Just me and my lunch."

    He doesn't say anything for so long that I actually stop answering my book and look up at him. I freeze. He's not smiling.

    "I used to think that," he says quietly. "A long time ago." He frowns but in a split second, he's grinning again like it never happened. "People never like being alone," he says. "You and me both. Right now, you have to admit that it's nice just sitting next to me and listening to me go on and on about things you don't get." He pauses and his wide grin becomes a soft smile. "Sometimes, it's nice being next to someone, just like this, without anyone telling me to cut the scene or to wrap it up. It's nice being normal, even for, well, an hour."

    He laughs a bit, like he's said something funny, and I guess he has. There's nothing even remotely _normal_ about me. I'm a loner. I always have been. Feli is the friendly one. He's the one everybody likes. I'm the one everybody ignores. The rude one. The one who's always acting up. The twin gone wrong.

    I'm not normal.

* * *

   There are moments that you end up expecting so much that when they actually come, you feel like you never expected them to happen at all. The expected becomes unexpected, and the long-awaited moment becomes something you can't believe.

    "I'm leaving town tomorrow."

    I stop mid-essay, my pen coming to a screeching halt in the middle of an _e_. I don't look up. I think of the words before I say them out loud.

    "Why?"

    "Promotion," he says. "The screening in the next town. I'm going to have an interview before I go, but it'll be quick."

    "Uh huh," I say, forcing down a feeling that's strangling me. I pull a cork out from my bottle of fury and it washes me down. My grip on my pen tightens.

    "Bella's a stickler for schedules," he says laughingly. Bella. His manager. "She's been hounding me the past week. Asking me where I've been and stuff."

    "What do you say?"

    "'Around'," he replies. "It's what I always say."

    "You're joking."

    He laughs. It makes me angrier. "Hilarious, right?" he says.

    I don't know what his idea of a joke is. It's almost as if he finds everything funny. I definitely don't. All I can think is how much of a smartass, how much of a goddamn bastard he is. I can hardly believe it myself. Why am I getting so angry? Why am I so frustrated? I get that anyone would be annoyed if they were me, but I don't think they'd be _this_ mad.

    "So this is it, then," I say finally.

    He actually has the tact to hesitate. "Yeah," he says. "I'll miss your sandwiches."

    "Feli's," I correct him. "He makes them."

    "For _you_ ," he says. "You've got one heck of a brother."

    "Whatever," I grumble.

    "It's not the only thing I'll miss, though."

    "Oh, yeah?"

    "Yeah," he says lightly. "Absolutely." He places a hand on my head and ruffles my hair. "I'll miss talking to you."

    I scowl. "You'll miss 'talking to me', huh."

    He smiles. "I'll miss you a whole lot," he assures me. "It's only been a couple of weeks but I feel like I've known you forever!"

    I swat his hand away and snort. "That's bullshit," I say scornfully. "You don't need to keep acting you like hanging out with me. You've got better people to be with and they actually like you." _People like my brother. People like the girls in school who always talk about you. People like your manager, Bella. You don't even know my name._

    He cocks his head to one side. "I'm pretty sure you like me, though," he says. "And you're a lot better than they are."

    I stuff my things into my bag angrily. " _Sure_ they are," I say dryly.

    "Hey." He sounds weird this time. It takes me a look at his face to realize that he's being completely serious. He isn't smiling. I cringe. Not this again.

    I hate it when he's not smiling.

    "My real name isn't Antonio Fernandez."

    I stare at him. "What?"

    "It's Antonio Carriedo," he says flatly. "Now it's your turn. Tell me your name."

    I don't know how, don't know why, but I feel like he's telling me something nobody (except maybe his manager) knows. It almost feels a little like a secret just between us. It almost feels a little like a confession. It almost feels like things are changing.

    And it's making me angrier by the second.

    "And if I tell you my name?" I snarl. "What're you gonna do about it, bastard?"

    He chuckles. "Tell you my cell phone number, of course. How else are we supposed to meet up after this?"

    It catches me off guard. Then again, he's always done that. I study his face, wondering how old he is. I start thinking other things, too. When's his birthday? Where does he live? What does he do in his free time? I could've found the answer to all of that from a tween magazine or something. But here I am, staring into his green eyes and getting my tongue in knots. It's stupid. It's fucking stupid. I have no idea why the hell I'm even playing along.

    Maybe, for once, I liked not being normal. Maybe, because this bastard asked for _my_ name, I feel like I'm so much better than all the bitches who actually like this guy. Maybe, this guy is the first person to actually make me feel like _me_.

    I zip my bag shut and, without hesitation, punch him in the shoulder. He flinches backward with a yelp and tearfully demands why I punched him.

    "Lovino," I snap. "Lovino Vargas. That's my name, dammit."

    He blinks at me once, twice. Then he laughs. It makes my lips tremble. Yeah, I've always wanted to smile when he's around. But he smiles enough for both of us. Besides, he'd make fun of me if I did. So I scowl. I scowl enough for the both of us.

    Then I think, nah, it's not 'maybe'. This bastard _definitely_ makes me feel like, well, me. 

* * *

   "Loviiii! Breakfast is ready! Wake up!"

    I'm already up. I glance at the mirror one last time and try a smile. It comes out like a fucking nightmare so I scowl instead. _Much better_ , I think, nodding. I pull out my earphones from my pocket and put one in my ear while I make my way downstairs.

    "Lovi!" Feli's obviously surprised by my prompt appearance. "You're up early!"

    "Yeah, so?" I pull out a chair and sit down to breakfast. It's pancakes today.

    "It's unusual!" says Feli as he sits down across from me. "I always have to call you twice! Sometimes I have to go upstairs and drag you out of bed. Are you in a good mood?"

    "Uh huh," I say, chewing on a mouthful of pancake. I can't exactly think of a crapton of things that're behind my good mood. There's only one thing. There's only ever been one thing these days.

    "That's awesome!"

    "I guess."

    We finish breakfast and wash up before taking off for school. I know it's a little rude to Feli, who's talking about as much as the usual, but I press the "play" button on my earphones the minute he isn't looking. I've only got one on anyway.

    My iPod is on shuffle. I have about a thousand songs. Can you blame me for laughing just a little when his voice floats into my ear? I fish my phone out of my pocket and check my inbox, just to make absolutely sure I'm not dreaming.

    I'm not. The text is there, clear as day:

    _Hey, Lovi, can I have another one of your sandwiches today?_


End file.
